Journey's Beginning
by Madwoman in the TARDIS
Summary: All the Master cared about was escaping death and taking over the universe. He didn't plan on a ginger-haired woman only he can see or hear. He didn't plan on meeting a sullen teenager, the Doctor's daughter, a widowed nurse and his little girl, or a mentally unstable human-Time Lord MetaCrisis. He didn't plan on having a family again.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Notes**

Spoilers for the entire series, but especially "The End of Time."

I'd like to thank the following websites for your plethora of Whovian information:

quotes/doctorwho/specials/the-end-of-time-part-two/ for your "The End of Time" quotes.

wiki/Doctor_Who_Wiki for your timeline.

anglophenia/2012/07/doctor-who-cosplay-how-to-dress-like-donna-noble/ for your description of Donna's outfit. (A banana chocolate chip muffin for anyone who can identify when she wore it.)

_Doctor Who _does not belong to me. If it did, I'd find a way to save Donna Noble, have River Song meet Captain Jack Harkness, and commission a Doctor Who – Sherlock crossover. In the meantime, I have to credit Steven Moffat, Russell T. Davies, Julie Gardner, and the BBC. I should also credit Verity Lambert and Sydney Newman.

**Summary**

All the Master cared about was escaping death and taking over the universe. Then, all he cared about was escaping the Time Lock and destroying the Doctor. He didn't plan on being haunted by a ginger-haired woman only he could see or hear. He didn't plan on meeting two teenagers, one a sullen boy and the other a girl who claimed to be his archenemy's daughter. He didn't plan on crashing into a parallel universe after a Cybermen apocalypse. He didn't plan on being rescued by a widowed nurse and his young daughter. He didn't plan on saving a mentally disturbed Time Lord-human version of the Doctor from the clutches of Torchwood. And he certainly didn't plan on ever having a family again.

**Journey's Beginning  
**

**Chapter 1  
**

Naismith Mansion  
London, UK  
December 25, 2009

"The gate wasn't enough," the Doctor said. "You're still dying."

1 2 3 4. 1 2 3 4. The drums beat their steady never-ending rhythm in his head. The Master pressed a hand to his forehead, but the sound was unrelenting. 1 2 …

Before the drums got to the third beat, a ginger-haired woman appeared in the center of the room. She wore a long grey sweater over a purple top, dark trousers, and practical brown shoes. A thick tan belt was tied over the sweater. Over this ensemble, the woman wore a dark tan leather raincoat. Her only jewelry was hoop earrings and a pebble ring on the middle finger of her right hand.

"Where am I?" she asked. "What is this?" She looked around at the identical people. "What the hell is this? Attack of the Bloody Clones?" Finally, her gaze rested on the Doctor. Her expression turned immediately from confusion to anger.

"Oi, Spaceman!" she shouted at the Time Lord. "You stupid, bloody fool! You think you can give me the greatest experience of my life and then wipe my memories?"

"Who the hell are you?" the Master demanded to know.

"You know who I am, Koschei" the Doctor responded, thinking he was the one being addressed. "It's me, Theta. The Doctor. We used to be friends. Remember? We used to …"

"Not you!" the Master interrupted, before he started rambling on about friendship, yada yada, being the last of their kind, yada yada, let's travel together. He'd rather stick his nose in a vat of Maxusian toxic waste. He pointed at the woman, who was by now waving her hands in front of the Doctor's unseeing eyes. "Her!"

"Her?" the Doctor asked. "I don't see anyone here but me and you. Well, one me and lots of yous. If you want to be technical about it." Had he not been tied up, the Master was certain he would have scratched the back of his ear. That was one tic this particular regeneration of the Doctor had. Not that the Master noticed, of course. Or cared.

"Earth to Dumbo! Dumbo, can you read me?" the woman was calling out. No response. She tried again, to no avail. Instead, she decided to continue her rant. "I leave you alone and look what happens. You great big stupid outer space dunce! Got a bit tied up, I see."

"There's a woman standing in front of you!" the Master replied. "You can't see her?"

At his unspoken command, several clones stepped forward to detain the intruder. She held up a hand and they were tossed against a wall.

Impossible! The Master thought. Was this some sort of alien entity? Everyone in the world was him. Why hadn't this woman changed? Why could he see through her? She wasn't entirely transparent, but she definitely wasn't solid, either.

The Doctor shook his head. "I don't see anyone, Kosch."

"My name is Master!" he thundered. He glared at his enemy. "Call me that again and you won't live to see another regeneration! And wipe that stupid look off your face. I don't need your pity." He turned toward the old man. "Tell me you see her!" he begged. No, demanded. The Master does not beg, especially not lowlife ape scum.

"Sorry, sir, but I don't see anyone neither." Stupid human. Asking him was a waste of breath.

"Oi, Spaceman! What do you mean you don't see anyone?" the woman shouted. "I'm standing right in front of you! Are you blind? I know you sure as hell can hear me! If this is some game, I'm gonna slap you!"

The Master bit back a laugh. It was just like the Doctor to submit to threats from a weaker species. Any laughter was choked back when the ginger woman raised her arm and slapped the Doctor across the cheek. Why wasn't the Doctor reacting? It couldn't be everyday someone shouted at the saintly Doctor, much less slapped him. These stupid apes looked to him as a savior. The Master wanted to thank his Gallifreyan physiology for providing him with a respiratory bypass system. The woman's hand had gone through the Doctor's face! Based on her Bynon-in-the-headlights look – what did humans call it? – this was a complete shock to her, too. Apparently, this transparency thing was new to her.

Before he could question the woman, she whirled around to confront him. "And you, Ringo! Changing everyone in the world to look like yourself? That's just wizard!"

"This body was born out of death," the Master reminded his oldest friend-turned-archenemy, deciding to return to their earlier conversation. "All it can do is die."

"'Born out of death?'" the woman repeated incredulously. "Yeah, mate, you do look like death. Next time you wanna make the whole world look like you, you might wanna shave first. Coulda been worse. I could be starin' at billions of copies of my mother. Now that's scary."

The Master decided to ignore the woman's barbs – for now. "What did you say to me?" he asked the Doctor. "Back in the wasteland. You said 'The End of Time.'"

"I said something is returning," the Doctor corrected him. "I was shown a prophecy. That's why I need your help."

"His help?" the woman scoffed. "You bloody idiot! He's got you and Gramps tied up! Why the hell are you beggin' for his help?"

"What if I'm a part of it? Don't you see? The drum beat is calling from so far away," he spoke over the woman. "From the end of time itself. And now it's been amplified six billion times. Triangulate all those signals, I could find its source!" The Master wildly waved his arms, pointing at himself. "Look Doctor! That's what your prophecy was! Me!"

The mystery woman shook her head in dissatisfaction. It was bad enough that he had to suffer the never ending drums, but at least they were a constant through every regeneration. This woman, who it seemed was only visible to him, was another matter. She smelled human, so he could rule out those theories. Was she a ghost? An astral projection? A hologram? Worse yet, was she a manifestation of his psychosis? She was something new, something he didn't create, and therefore, could not control. He would never admit it, but she was making him nervous.

"Where's the TARDIS?" he asked.

"Just stop," the Doctor begged. "Just think."

"Think? You want him to think?" the woman asked. By now, she was leaning against a column, arms crossed over her chest.

"Kill him!" He motioned one of his clones to hold the old man at gunpoint. "I need that technology, Doctor. Tell me where it is or the old man is dead."

"Gramps!" the woman cried. "Don't you dare lay a finger on him!" She planted herself between the old man and the clones, but his clones just walked through her. The Master made a mental note to test her lack of solidity later.

"Don't tell him!" the old man – Gramps – begged.

Oh, those humans, the Master thought. Have to admire them. So brave and yet so stupid. "I'll kill him right now!" he warned.

The Doctor smirked in response. "Actually, the most impressive thing about you is that after all this time, you're still bone dead stupid."

"Take aim," the Master commanded.

"You've got six billion pairs of eyes but you still can't see the obvious, can you?"

"I what?

The Doctor's smirk couldn't possibly get any wider. "That guard is one inch too tall."

The last thing the Master heard before being knocked out was the woman's shouts of "Daft Martians!"


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Notes**

Spoilers for the entire series, but especially "The End of Time."

I'm American, not British. I'll try to use British terms when I can (e.g. "lift" instead of "elevator," "braces" instead of "suspenders"). If I get something wrong, feel free to point it out. Am I writing the location correctly?

It's been awhile since I've seen "The End of Time." It was on BBC America during a _Doctor Who _marathon. With my luck, scenes were probably cut. Hopefully, I didn't mess up anything too important.

Chapters 2 and 3 still take place during "The End of Time." Don't worry, folks, the Master and the mysterious Donna Noble will journey elsewhere by chapter 4.

_Doctor Who _does not belong to me. If it did, I'd find a way to save Donna Noble, have River Song meet Captain Jack Harkness, and commission a Doctor Who – Sherlock crossover. In the meantime, I have to credit Steven Moffat, Russell T. Davies, Julie Gardner, and the BBC. I should also credit Verity Lambert and Sydney Newman.

**Journey's Beginning **

**Chapter 2**

Naismith Mansion  
London, UK  
December 25 – 26, 2012

The first thing the Master noticed as he came back to awareness was the icy hand repeatedly slapping his cheek. The second thing he noticed was the voice of a woman shouting at him.

"Get off me!" he motioned to shoo the annoying person away.

"You can hear me?" she asked in astonishment.

"Of course I can hear you, stupid woman!" he retorted. 1 2 3 4. The drums continued their unrelentless torture. 1 2 3 4.

"Why couldn't Spaceman hear me?" she wondered.

"How the hell should I know?" he snapped. "You're certainly loud enough. The whole world should be able to hear you." He stopped as something dawned on him. "Do you mean I'm the only one who knows you exist? Oh, this is rich!"

"Oi, Ringo!" the woman shouted. "Get your arse up right this instant!" The volume of her voice was nearly enough to drown out the constant drumming.

"Who are you?" he asked as he stood up. "And why didn't you change? You should be me. Everyone is me!"

The woman snorted. "You? Oh, you really are thick, aren't you? You Martians. Think you're so clever. You big outer space dunces!"

"You're the woman who called the stupid old ape," the Master suddenly realized.

"Don't you dare call Gramps a 'stupid old ape,' you bloody idiot!"

"What did they call you?" He quickly wracked his superior Time Lord brain. "Oh yes, Donna!" Not that her name mattered in the slightest. She would be dead soon, anyways, whoever or whatever she was.

Most humans backed down from his hypnotic gaze, but for some reason, this firecracker of a human refused to be deterred. The woman rolled her eyes in exasperation. "Give the Martian a prize, folks! Congratulations, Ringo. My name is Donna Noble. You know my name."

"Why do you call me 'Ringo?'" he inquired.

"He was the drummer for the Beatles," the woman, now Donna Noble, told him. "Drummer? Drums? Any of that ringin' a bell for ya?"

"How do you know about the drums?" he asked. "Did the Doctor tell you about me?"

"I know all about the drums," she said, tapping her temple. "If it's in his head, it's in mine."

He looked at her incredulously. "That's impossible! No human can hold a Time Lord consciousness. You'd …" he paused, the conversation the old man had with the woman earlier coming to mind. "You'd burn up!" He examined her. "You're not really here, are you?" He wished he had his laser – not sonic! – screwdriver. He wanted to study this woman closer. "What are you? A ghost? An astral projection?"

"How the hell should I know?" she retorted. "One minute I'm running away from a shitload of your clones, freight train of a migraine. Next minute, I'm here. You tell me, Ringo."

"I am the Master!" he snapped back.

"Well, I could call you 'Keith Moon,' but I think 'Ringo' has a nicer ring to it. Whaddaya say?"

She held up a hand before he could respond. "Listen, Ringo, I'm running out of time here."

"Time?" he scoffed. "I'm a Time Lord. I have all the time in the world."

"News flash, Time Boy. I don't."

He ignored her and turned to his clones. "Night has fallen," he announced. "Are we ready?"

"Every single one of us is prepared," one of his clones answered.

"Then we listen. All of us. Across the world. Just... listen... Concentrate. Find the signal..." Suddenly, something bright and shiny fell from the sky. One of his clones retrieved it and brought it to the Master. "There! The sound is tangible! Someone could only have designed this. But who?"

"What the hell is that thing?" Donna asked.

"No idea." He licked the mystery object.

"Oi! Are you gonna start licking that, now? Is that something all you daft spacemen do?"

"It's not daft. Time Lords can identify chemical compounds by taste," he explained. "You're one of the Doctor's pets. Surely you're used to it by now."

She ignored his insult and peered closely at the object. "So, what is that supposed to be? Looks like a diamond."

"Will …

"Except normal diamonds don't fall from the sky. And they're not as white."

"you …"

She whipped her head up and stared at the Master. "So what is it? Some kind of alien rock?"

"shut …"

"You trying to give Tiffany's a run for …"

"Will you just shut up already?" the Master roared. "Shut up, and let me concentrate!"

"Don't you take that tone with me!" she snapped. She looked hurt but, thank Rassilon, stepped aside and let him concentrate.

The Master spent the next several hours studying the shiny object, trying to decipher its meaning. He also tried unsuccessfully to ignore the loudmouthed human standing next to him, questioning his every move. Her words from earlier kept returning to his mind. Diamond … white … sky … alien …

"A ha!" he suddenly shouted.

"Yes, Master?" Donna asked. Her sarcastic tone of voice was not lost on the Time Lord.

He ignored her and worked on rigging up a global broadcasting network. "A star fell from the sky," he announced. "Don't you want to know where from? Because now it makes sense, Doctor."

Donna scoffed. "That's real good, mate. Cause it don't make any sense to me!"

"The whole of my life. My destiny," he continued. "The star was a diamond. And the diamond is a white point star. And I have worked all night dissecting my new gift. Now the star is mine. I can increase the signal. And use it as a life line. Do you get it now? Do you see? Keep watching, Doctor. This should be spectacular. Over and out."

"He's moving, sir," a clone said.

"Get a fix on him," he ordered.

"He's moving very fast," another clone told him.

Suddenly, a body crashed through the glass ceiling, scattering shards of glass and metal everywhere.

Donna ran to the man lying face-down on the floor. "Doctor!" she gasped. "Are you alright?" The Time Lord brushed himself off and shakily stood up. "Oh, right, you can't hear me." She closely examined his face and tsk-tsked at the cuts and bruises. "Oh, you daft Martian!" she soothed.

The Master grinned and held up the white point star. "Looky-looky, Doctor!"

An explosion of light, and the room was filled with people he never thought he'd see again. They were adorned in regal red robes and elaborate headdresses.

"Who the hell are these people?" Donna wanted to know.

They were back. The Time Lords were back.

Rassilon stepped forward. "My Lord Doctor. My Lord Master," he greeted them. "We are gathered for the end."


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Notes**

Spoilers for the entire series, but especially "The End of Time."

Our foray into "The End of Time" is complete after this chapter. Starting with Chapter 4, we shall venture into new territories.

_Doctor Who _does not belong to me. If it did, I'd find a way to save Donna Noble, have River Song meet Captain Jack Harkness, and commission a Doctor Who – Sherlock crossover. In the meantime, I have to credit Steven Moffat, Russell T. Davies, Julie Gardner, and the BBC. I should also credit Verity Lambert and Sydney Newman.

_**Journey's Beginning **_

**Chapter 3**

Naismith Mansion  
London, UK  
December 26, 2012

"Listen to me," the Doctor begged. "You can't."

The Lord President spoke. "It is a fitting paradox that our salvation comes at the hands of our most infamous child."

The Doctor shook his head. "He's not saving you. Don't you realize what he's doing?"

"Hey! No! Hey!" the Master broke in. "That's mine. Hush. Look around you. I've transplanted myself into every single human being. But who wants a mongrel little species like them?"

Donna shook her fist at him. "I'll give you 'mongrel little species,' Spaceman!"

He ignored the ginger woman. "Because now I can transplant myself into every single Time Lord. Oh yes! Mr. President, sir. Standing there all noble and resplendent. And decrepit. Think how much better you're gonna look as me."

To his chagrin, the Lord President held out a gauntlet-clad arm. In no time at all, the Master Race was no more. The humans – oh, they looked so much better with his face – were walking around in utter confusion.

"On your knees, mankind," Rassilon commanded.

Instead of listening, the humans fled from the room. Wise choice, the Master thought.

Donna patted him on the shoulder. "Oh, you poor thing," she cooed. "There's no more yous!" She was lucky they weren't alone; otherwise he would have had something to say about her mock sympathy.

He didn't want to appear bitter about the foiling of his latest scheme. "That's fine, that's good. Because you said 'salvation.' I still saved you. Don't forget that!"

"The approach begins!" Rassilon announced.

"The approach of what?" the Master and Donna both asked.

"'Something is returning,'" the Doctor quoted. "Don't you ever listen? That was the prophecy. Not some 'one,' some 'thing.'"

"What is it?" the Master asked.

"They're not just bringing back the species," his ex-friend explained. "It's Gallifrey! Right here. Right now."

"But this is fantastic, isn't it? The Time Lords restored."

"You weren't there. In the final days of the war," the Doctor said. "You never saw what was born. But if the time lock's broken then everything is coming through. Not just the Daleks, but the Star of Degradations. The Horde of Travesties. The Nightmare Child. The Could-Have-Been King with his army of Meanwhiles and Neverweres. The war turned into hell! And that's what you've opened. Right above the Earth. Hell is descending."

"My kind of world," the Master bragged.

Donna Noble glared at him. "Are all Time Lords that stupid? You bloody idiot!"

"Just listen!" the Doctor begged him. "'Cause even the Time Lords can't survive that."

"We will initiate the Final Sanction," Lord President announced. "The end of time will come. At my hand. The rupture will continue until it rips the time vortex apart."

"That's suicide," the Master warned.

"We will ascend!" Rassilon continued. "To become creatures of consciousness alone. Free of these bodies. Free of time. And cause and effect, where creation itself ceases to be."

"You see now," the Doctor told his old friend. "That's what they were planning. In the final days of the war. I had to stop them."

**"**Then... take me with you, Lord President. Let me ascend into glory!"

"You are diseased," Rassilon sneered. "Albeit a disease of our own making. No more." He eyed the service revolver suddenly pointed in his direction. "Choose your enemy well," he warned the Doctor. "We are many. The Master is but one."

"Oi!" Donna shouted. "Mr. 'No Guns!' Is that – is that Gramps' service revolver?" She glanced over at the old man in the chamber. "Oh, Gramps," she sighed.

"But he's the president," the Master said. "Kill him and Gallifrey could be yours." The Doctor aimed the gun at the Master. "He's to blame. Not me!"

Donna had a look that many humans had when their inferior brains were working overtime. "What?" he mouthed.

"This might sound barmy, but I think the drums were a link to the Time Lock."

He could have kissed her. Not that he'd ever admit it, but the Doctor sure knew how to pick his pets. Maybe he'd keep this feisty human around for awhile. It would be worth it just to see the Doctor squirm.

"Oh... the link is inside my head. Kill me, the link gets broken, they go back. You never would, you coward. Go on then. Do it!" He smirked as the Doctor again changed his focus, this time onto Rassilon. "Exactly! It's not just me, it's him! Kill him!"

"The final act of your life is murder," sneered the Lord President. "But which one of us."

The Doctor aimed the service revolver at the white point star. He pulled the trigger, shattering it. "The link is broken. Back into the time war, Rassilon. Back into hell!"

"Gallifrey falling!" a woman chanted. "Gallifrey falling!"

"You die with me, Doctor!" Rassilon threatened.

The Doctor was resigned. "I know."

The Master shoved his oldest friend turned enemy aside. "Get out of the way." He could feel the artron energy coursing through his veins and held out his arms. "You did this to me!" he screamed. "All of my life! You made me!" Artron energy shot out of one hand toward the Time Lords and Ladies. He counted out loud to the drum beats in his head, alternating arms. "One! Two! Three! Four!"

The Master felt himself being violently sucked into the Time Lock. His last thought: How am I going to get myself out of this one?


End file.
